Until recently very few people were aware that I knew who they were. Recently, however, I have begun alerting them to this fact. Ma'am, I'll say, I know that you come here occasionally. Oh? she'll reply. Is that so? It is, Ma'am, indeed. We will then part from one another's company, she a bit wiser for my admission.

I pinched one woman on the elbow and then said Do you know that I have seen you here before? She looked down at her elbow. At least seven times that I can remember. She didn't know that, she tells me, then apologizes for having someplace else to be.

Just earlier today I approached a woman pushing a stroller and stopped the thing with my foot. Do you always walk this thing about at this hour? I ask, knowing already that she does. Yes usually, why? Oh only because I've seen you here at this exact hour nearly everyday for the last three or four months. The woman nods and then looks down at the child inside the stroller. She says Excuse me and rolls over my foot as she hurries away.

I told one woman recently that I thought I could probably guess what she was about to order. What? she asked playfully. I then recited to her the rather unique order I had overheard her place at least a dozen times before, and her face dropped. How'd you know that? she asked. I informed her. She left without ordering anything.

I know who so many different people are and yet they don't have any idea that I know – I'd like to change this, to let them know, to make certain that they know. Perhaps then people will finally begin to admit that they know who I am.